estelio han, meleth vin
by nirnaeth
Summary: Bout Aragorn and Arwen... chappie 13 up! WHEEE! ^_^ PLEASE READ!
1. Estelio han, estelio ammen

Arwen sat on the edge of her bed, running her pale fingers through her dark tresses. She stood, smiling brightly, a laugh dancing in her throat. The sun toyed at the horizon, lingering for a time, though soon it would yield to the night. She left the room, making her way quickly to the quarters where the recovering hobbit, Frodo, lay.  
  
She frowned as memories of the small lad, looking so scared and cold, slipping into despair, ran through her thoughts.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Arwen gazed at the window, listening absentmindedly to the conversation behind her. Messengers had arrived from the West, bearing tidings of a small hobbit named Frodo who journeyed to Rivendell bearing a precious object. She tacked her fingers rhythmically on the sill, leaning her forehead against the cool glass.  
  
Her hair brushed the bench she sat upon, dark as twilight, falling freely over her shoulders. She turned her head, suddenly aware that a name she recognized quite well had come into the discussion; Aragorn. Her eyes suddenly filled with a keen light. Aragorn was coming.  
  
She stood silently and slipped from the room, musing as she paced quickly down the hall and swept into her chamber, yanking a riding outfit from her wardrobe and dresser. She yanked her long tresses into several simple braids and pulled them altogether with an elegant silver clasp. She dressed hurridly, lacing her boots and standing.  
  
Rummaging around, she emerged with a well worn leather bag, and stuffed several useful objects in it, grabbing her sword from where it hung upon the wall and shoving it into the sheath that hung around her waist before heading down through the halls to the kitchen, trying not to be seen.  
  
She filled her bag with food and drink, then headed for the stables. Asfolath neighed loudly as she entered, shaking his proud silver head. She quickly led him out of his stall, saddling him and stuffing her sack into one of the packs attatched. Arwen smiled, placing one foot firmly in the stirrup and swinging up, settling herself before turning and gazing over and up to the window where she could barely glimpse her father, still talking. She blew him a kiss and prayed he would not be too upset before turning Asfolath and bolting down the path.  
  
The minutes, hours streamed by as she rode, searching for any sign of the hobbits, and of Aragorn. As the sun began to drop behind the horizon on this, the second day, she spied to west the thin, curling wisps of smoke to the east, away off in the forest. She turned her horse and darted into the woods, riding cautiously toward the camp.  
  
Dusk had faded, replaced by night when Arwen drew near to the camp. She dismounted, instructing Asfolath not to move, then crept through the trees, silent. A noise came from her left and she crouched behind a bush, hand resting on the hilt of her sword.  
  
Shw waited, her sensitive ears picking up every sound and as a figure emerged, clad in well worn clothing and bearing a torch, her keen eyes instantly recognized him. She thought about emerging and showing herself, but then decided against it in favor of a more interesting apporach.  
  
Arwen carefully unsheathed her sword, not making a sound and waited until he neared her hiding place. He was intent upon something, eyes gleaming as he found what he searched for, fingering the delicate plant and whipping out a thin dagger. He did not notice her until she had pressed her blade to his throat. She restrained a laugh at the expression on his face.  
  
"What's this?" she asked with a grin, "A ranger, caught off his guard?"  
  
Aragorn turned his head toward the familiar voice, the edge sliding along his unshaven jaw, frowning at the amused look on her face.  
  
"What is wrong?" she asked, withdrawing her sword and sheating it in a single fluid movement, "What has happened?"  
  
"The nazgul," he said, "they attacked. Frodo was injured." He pointed to the east and slightly north, "I left them there. One of the hobbits, Sam, may still be out looking for Athelas." He held up the plant in his hand. Arwen whistled, a sweet, piercing sound that ranf through the forest and soon Asfolath came trotting up. Arwen grabbed a fistful of mane and lept onto his back, riding off in the direction Aragorn had pointed.  
  
She rode into the clearing, dismounting using the horse's momentum and rushing over to where the ill hobbit lay, gasping and shivering. She could see the death and despair in his eyes as she knelt beside him.  
  
"Frodo. Im Arwen, telin le thaed. Lasto beth nin, tolo dan na ngalad."  
  
Come back to the light, little one.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She cleared her mind and could not help the smile that broke across her face.  
  
He was here.  
  
Aragorn leaned against the door frame, clad in soft green. It looked like he had washed his hair, too. His face was worried, calm, and yet worried. His quick eyes watched the small figure, and the other hobbit which slumbered in the chair next to him, a smile darting across his features. Sam's disheveled, dingy blond locks fell into his face, still filled with dirt and twigs from their journey, for he had refused to leave his master's side since their arrival, save by necessity.  
  
"Frodo sleeps," Aragorn sighed, turning to face her, joy playing across his face, "I have missed you."  
  
Arwen grinned and broke into a run, flinging herself into his arms. She buried her face in his shoulder, a single tear falling down her cheek.  
  
"I have missed you." she whispered. "The years never seemed so long."  
  
He laughing, picking her up and spinning her around. She giggled, tracing the pattern on his tunic as he set her down before grabbing his hand.  
  
"Come, hir nin, we would not want to wake the periannath." She skipped off down the hall and Aragorn hurried after her. He arrived at the gardens and peered around, frowning as he did not see her.  
  
Suddenly his vision was blocked by two hands and the sound of a very familiar laugh filled the air.  
  
"Guess who, hir nin!" A sweet voice whispered in his ear.  
  
"Glorfindel?" he asked, "is that you? You are too old for such games."  
  
"You have guessed wrong." Aragorn smiled and reached out, tickling the figure behind him. His action elicited a bright giggle. "And now you must grant me my request."  
  
"Oh really?" he asked, a wry smirk crossing his face, eyes still covered, "Says who?"  
  
"Says me, of course."  
  
Aragorn turned in her arms, laying his hand against her face, "Then I must be sure to comply, indeed."  
  
Arwen looked him in the eye, her arms sneaking around his waist, eyes fluttering shut. "Kiss me." she whispered.  
  
Aragorn smiled, "Beyest lin." He gently pressed his lips to hers. He drew away, running his thumb over her cheek. "You are beautiful."  
  
"Hmmm." she murmured. "So are you."  
  
"Really?" he asked. "How flattering."  
  
"I'm sure," She opened her eyes and he nearly lost himself in the laughter he found there. "Come, my lord, forget the troubles that follow you." Arwen pulled from Aragorn's embrace, swirling around. "Sing for me? She asked sweetly.  
  
Aragorn sat down on a bench, the deep shadows of dusk playing across his face. "What do you want me to sing?"  
  
Arwen swayed from side to side, hands clasped behind her back. "Anything, if it from your lips." She leaned over and kissed him, then stood waiting.  
  
"Very well, then." He thought a moment, then began:  
  
Uich gwennen na' wanath ah na dhín  
  
You are not bound by loss and silence  
  
Arwen began to twirl and sway with the rhythm, keeping perfect time. Her voice joined his in the sorrowful words.  
  
An uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen  
  
For you are not bound to the circles of this world  
  
Arwen swept around, capturing the emotions of the words with every movement.  
  
Boe naid bain gwannathar  
  
All things must pass away  
  
Images danced through his mind, enchanted by her dancing.  
  
Boe cuil ban firith  
  
All life is doomed to fade  
  
She flitted through the shadows, fair as the twilight in Elven home  
  
Boe naer gwannathach, a si le law ú-estel  
  
Sorrowing you must go, but not without hope  
  
She ceased her actions as the song drew to a graceful finish, halting before him. She mused for a moment, the last strain of the melody still flickering through her mind. She sat down on his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing his cheek.  
  
"Melin le." 


	2. U i vethed, na i onnad

Aragorn pressed the Evenstar into Arwen's pale hand, fighting with everything in himself not to cry. He must do this. He looked upon her, and her beauty amidst her grief, it seemed, strove to break his heart. He could not let her fade, loveliest of her people, for a mortal.  
  
Those who were not born to die.  
  
"It was a dream, Arwen. Nothing more." he spoke, voice little more then a whisper. Their tale, one not unlike another, written long ago. But he was not Beren, and she not Luthien, and the days of those tales had long been naught but stories of grief in the Elven houses. For with sorrow do they remember her, Tinuviel, fairest that ever lived among the children of Iluvatar.  
  
"This belongs to you." He lowered his gaze, and they both knew the true meaning of his words. Arwen placed it back in his palm, folding his fingers over it and holding them with her own pale hands, sorrowful and yet determined.  
  
"It was a gift." Tears formed in her deep eyes as she begged silently, "keep it."  
  
He took it and did the clasp, letting it fall around his neck. A single tear threaded its way down Arwen's cheek.  
  
You are not bound to loss and silence.  
  
He reached out and cupped her face, brushing the tear away with his thumb, though it was quickly joined by more.  
  
For you are not bound to the circles of this world  
  
Arwen bowed her head, burying her face in his hands, wetting them with her tears.  
  
All things must pass away  
  
Aragorn gently pulled her into his arms, holding her close for what he knew would be the last time. He remembered the pain in Elrond's eyes. Fear, also. Fear of losing his only daughter as he had lost his brother.  
  
All life is doomed to fade.  
  
Arwen pulled away and looked him in the eye, pain written across her face. She buried her face in his shoulder, staying there. Aragorn sighed heavily, so much weight hung upon his shoulders. His mind drifted off, wandering through memory and thought.  
  
Sorrowing you must go  
  
Something soft pressed to his lips drew him back to reality and Arwen pulled away, fingering the Evenstar that hung around his neck. "Melithan le, Aragorn," she leaned over to whisper in his ear, "An-ui." *I will love you, forever.  
  
But not without hope.  
  
Aragorn gently kissed her forehead, "Farewell, Undomiel." He withdrew from her arms, bowing gracefully.  
  
Arwen reached over and toyed with the white gem on last time, running it over the chain absentmindedly. Her eyes met Aragorn's. "May the grace of the Valar protect you," she said, slowly pulling her hand back, letting it fall numbly to her side, "Namaer."  
  
She watched as he walked away, features set, hardened, sensing the struggle within. She brushed her tears away. She would see him again, she promised herself. There was always hope. 


	3. Nirnaeth

Arwen stood rooted to the spot, watching as the one she loved departed. She struggled to restrain the tears which threatened to burst from the depths of her being. Aragorn paused at the doorway and she watched as he dipped his head to her in a sign of respect. Arwen fought herself as she numbly did the same, the words he had spoken to her earlier pounding in his mind, crushing her.  
  
"It was a dream, Arwen, nothing more."  
  
She stifled a sob and gazed pleadingly at Aragorn until at last he turned and left, leaving her to go out into a world full of peril. Arwen felt a warm hand on her shoulder and she turned to face her father, Elrond Peredhil, Lord of Imladris. He stared into her eyes and knew what passed through her mind, brows furrowing in pity. She opened her mouth to speak, but closed it as no words came out. Elrond stooped and kissed her forehead lightly, embracing his only daughter lovingly. She listened as he exhaled a deep sigh of relief. Elrond closed his eyes, a sad smile crossing his face. His cares were relieved, not by much, but by some amount as the fellowship of the ring departed from his house. The dread of the One Ring still hung in the air, but the overwhelming presence had departed.  
  
And Aragorn.  
  
Aragorn, Son of Arathorn, heir of the kings of Men, had left the safety of the elven refuge to go to war for his kingdom. Elrond's eyes had watched that morning, keen interest shining in them as Aragorn had attempted to return the gift of the Evenstar, but had been refused. What his eyes did not see his heart read in his daughters face, He winced as he thought of the sadness he saw etched upon it, her eyes were dark and deep, filled with unshed tears. He had not seen her this despairing since the departure of her mother, his beloved Celebrian, many years before.  
  
Arwen stirred in his arms and moved away from him, staring up at him with eyes filled with cold starlight. She broke from his embrace and left, gliding across the courtyard until she vanished from his sight. Elrond sighed and turned to walk back into his house.  
  
Time would heal her wounds.  
  
Arwen slipped through the halls of Imladris, finding her way to her chambers. She had wandered in the gardens for many long hours, numbly drifting from reality. No tears were left to cry, her eyes were dry now, though long had she wept silently in a forlorn corner. She came to the end of the hall and laid her hand on the ornate handle, fingering it a moment before opening the door and slipping inside. Candles had been lit and they sent a warm glow around the room, rich fabrics shining faintly.  
  
She made her way to her bed, lying down and staring absentmindedly out the window, fingering the sill. Time fell through her hands, grains of sand so fine she could not catch them. She hardly ate or drank, and did not sleep nor rise, watching as the sun rose and fell, once, twice. Her thoughts drifted far from the peaceful valley she felt trapped within, searching far- off lands. Few understood the melancholy state of the Undomiel, their Evenstar, indeed none save Elrond knew in full.  
  
At last there came a knock on her door. Arwen did not move, nor rise to answer it, merely laid still until it clicked open, sighing as she felt her brothers, Elrohir and Elladan, enter the room. She shifted and sat up slowly, looking at them with calm eyes, sorrowful and deep as the oceans, filled with the knowledge and sorrow of many days and much loss. She did not say a word, and Elrohir exchanged a questioning glance with his brother before turning to his sister and speaking.  
  
"Father bids us send you word that the first of our people prepare to leave for the Havens." Arwen listened with still cold, still eyes, her face unreadable, letting the words drift through her mind. "Do you wish to depart with them or linger here for a time?"  
  
She could only whisper under her breath, "a time. a breath, a year, a life. eternity."  
  
"Sister, are you well?" Elladan asked, sitting beside her, "Three days have you lain in sloth, hardly stirring from you bed, and the birds sing mournfully that the Evenstar does not shine among her people."  
  
"My people." Arwen murmured, reaching to finger the tiara that lay upon her windowsill, musing as she toyed with it, "The light of the Evenstar does not wax or wane."  
  
Elrohir joined them on the bed, sitting on her other side and hugging her, "no, it does not. It is unfailing, immortal."  
  
"Immortal." she said the word to herself, "but if Hope is taken from it, how may it shine?"  
  
The twins exchanged a knowing glance, realization dawning upon them both. Elladan looked down at Arwen and sighed, "Estel."  
  
She cocked her head and shot him a glance, "what did you say?"  
  
"It is Estel, is it not?" he stated, looking at her with sorrowful grey eyes as understanding filled him, "What has happened, Undomiel?"  
  
Silence filled them room as Arwen looked into her brother's eyes, tears forming in her own once more. She struggled to speak, wishing to grieve in silence and yet wishing to confide in someone of her torment. Seeing their expectant looks she bowed her head and spoke, "I love him, brother," she whispered, the words drifting in the silent room like some haunting echo, "I love him."  
  
The twins were stunned, and Elrohir could not stop the words which fell from his lips, "And doom came on Tinuviel that in his arms lay glistening." He immediately glanced over at his little sister, feeling ashamed, and fearful of her reaction. She turned and looked at him, but he saw that she knew.  
  
She knew the bitter price she would pay if ever she joined hands to marry the one she loved. She must accept the sorrowful parting with all those whom she loved, to never see her mother again. She, Undomiel of her people, beloved daughter of the Eldar, would taste the bitterness of the mortality she would bring upon herself and the Sea between herself and all those she held dear would be too wide to ever cross. They would be sundered forever.  
  
She looked at them, knowing what passed through their minds, "It matters not, for he does not accept my love. He would not have me give up my immortality as did Luthien. He has heard the songs and tales of this house, and knows full well the elven grief of the loss of Tinuviel, which shall never find an end. He would have me depart to Valinor, and there dwell in peace until the ending of the world, though his own heart breaks that he cannot be with me."  
  
The twins fell silent a moment before Elrohir spoke, "Will you leave then, as Aragorn desires?"  
  
"I will remain here in Imladris, for a time." she bowed her head and turned to face the window once more. It was raining, dark clouds swirled high above and the drops they sent crashing to earth tacked rhythmically on her pane. The storm of her heart raged so much fiercer. Elladan stood, followed by Elrohir, and walked to the door, reluctant to leave their grieving sister and yet unsure of what to say to ease her pain.  
  
Elladan stepped outside her chamber, but Elrohir paused in the doorway, "You will find the strength to shine, Arwen."  
  
Arwen nodded slowly and he left. As the door clicked shut after him she leaned against the window, pressing her forehead to its cold surface.  
  
"Haer o auth a nir a naeth." *  
  
She ran her fingers along the glass, tracing the streaks made by the never ending rain, "Ah Aragorn. you do not understand; my heart is filled with grief and despair only when I have no Hope. And a war rages within me now that I cannot dispel and I find no peace. No peace or hope without you."  
  
She lay down, closing her eyes and whispering, "Estel nin," * before she slipped at last into the realm of dreams.  
  
"Estel."  
  
Translations:  
  
Title: trust in this, our love Estel: Hope Imladris: Rivendell Undomiel: Evenstar  
  
* Away from war and grief and despair (Aragorn's word's to Arwen when he attempts to return the Evenstar) * My hope  
  
Notes:  
  
The stars are especially beloved by the elves and Evenstar is the title given to the brightest. Thus, as Arwen was the fairest that walked the earth, she was given the title "Evenstar" or Undomiel, in her native tongue  
  
Elladan and Elrohir are Arwen's older brothers. They have dark hair and grey eyes, and are identical twins.  
  
Arwen is called Evenstar (Undomiel, in Elvish) and is descended from Beren and Luthien. Luthien was an elf, the fairest that ever walked the earth, and she gave up her immortality to wed Beren, a Man, and so it was that the elven kind lost her that they most loved.  
  
Peredhil means Half-Elven. Elrond is the son of Elwing and Earendil, both of whom were half elf/ half mortal which chose to live as immortals. Elrond and his brother Elros were given the chance to live as men or elves; Elrond chose to live as an immortal, while Elros chose to live as a Man and died.  
  
Estel was the name given to Aragorn when he dwelt in Rivendell, where his mother left him after his father was slain when the heir of the kings was still young. Estel, meaning "Hope" was raised as a foster son to Elrond, though did not meet Arwen until he was twenty, on account of the fact that she dwelt in Lothlorien for long periods of time, where her grandmother Galadriel dwelt.  
  
Celebrian, the wife of Elrond and daughter of Galadriel and Celeborn of Lothlorien, departed over a thousand years previously. She had left after suffering for nearly a year since she was attacked by orcs traveling from Lothlorien to Rivendell. 


	4. estel

The days passed swift as the winds that howled outside as the rain continued, day after day. At last the clouds parted and the sun shone brightly upon Rivendell. Arwen sat upon a bridge, clad in a dress of deep blue, her feet dripping in the cool water below. Her eyes were clouded, still as the twilight above, and her long hair fell like a shadow around her, lightly brushing the cold stone upon which she sat.  
  
Her mind drifted through memories. so many memories. It had been here, this very bridge, on a night not unlike this one. She had given Aragorn the Evenstar. Her hand drifted to her chest, fingering the familiar place where it had hung. It seemed so long ago, as though more then an age had passed since last she had looked upon him, and as each day slipped by she waited for some sign, some token that he yet lived.  
  
Arwen sighed and lay down on the hard bridge, letting her hand stray over the edge and down until the cold embrace of the water below met her fingertips. She closed her eyes and let her thoughts slip away, running her hand through the icy stream. Darkness swirled at the edges of her conscious and she sighed as she drifted into dreams.  
  
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Darkness.  
  
There was nothing but shadow, everywhere. She heard voices, so many voices. And then, one that was so familiar.  
  
Aragorn.  
  
He was yelling something that she could not discern and Arwen peered in the darkness, searching for him amid the dark. Objects began to take shape, a scene appearing that struck fear into her heart. Aragorn was clutching a hobbit, Frodo, to himself, trying to regain his balance as the stair beneath him swayed. She could see the others watching helplessly, fear written on their features, as he struggled not to fall into the seemingly never-ending depths below.  
  
Sounds washed over her, harsh, grating noises of battle filled her ears and she winced with pain. Something shook the walls and sent a massive section of rock crashing through the stairway behind Aragorn and Frodo, breaking it and continuing to fall into the chasm. They were now stranded on a leaning island of stone, the Heir of the kings of Men and the Ringbearer, the hope of Middle-Earth.  
  
Arwen watched with frightened eyes as he shifted their weight forward, struggling to keep Frodo from toppling off. They braced themselves as the giant slab freefell toward their company, leaping into the waiting arms of their companions as the section collided with the rest of the stairway, then continued to run down the jagged steps.  
  
Darkness once again enveloped the sight of Arwen and she struggled not to scream as she groped for reality in the nothingness. Flames flashed all around and she gasped and struggled not to fall as the sudden glare threw her off balance. In the midst of a thin stone bridge stood the well known figure of an old man, clad in drab robes of dingy grey, his long beard glinting in the light.  
  
Mithrandir.  
  
"I am the servant of the secret fire, wielder of the flame of Anor. The dark fire will not avail you, flame of Udûn."  
  
Arwen cried out as she saw who Gandalf spoke to. A Balrog of Morgoth, monstrous and huge, flaming, radiating hatred and evil. It's wings were spread wide so that they filled the cavern. He raised a sword, glowing a brilliant orange and swung. Gandalf brandished Glamdring, gleaming blade fashioned by the elven race glimmering blue. Faithfully it deflected the blow with a flash, shattering the Balrog's blade.  
  
Gandalf's strong voice rang through the chamber, "Go back to the shadow. YOU SHALL NOT PASS!" With that he smote the bridge with his staff, light filling the air surrounding him. The Balrog glanced at the seemingly unaffected bridge beneath his feet with a quizzical look before he sneered, flicking his whip in a threatening gesture and then stepped forward.  
  
The bridge crumbled and collapsed beneath him and he fell along with it into the dark chasm. Gandalf sighed and turned, a look of relief crossing his care creased face. Arwen watched in muted horror as the Balrog's firey whip curled and flicked upward, coiling around his ankle and dragging him down into the depths. He managed to catch the edge, grasping at the stone. She could hear the others yelling as Frodo strove to break free from Boromir's grasp.  
  
"Gandalf!"  
  
"Fly, you fools," he whispered, then slipped and fell into the shadowed chasm.  
  
"Mithrandir." she whispered as the scene vanished. Soft light filled her vision and when it faded she saw Galadriel, clad in soft white, smiling, filled with sorrow and laughter.  
  
"Welcome, Undomiel."  
  
"Grandmother." she dipped her head in respect, "I have missed you."  
  
Galadriel embraced her warmly, and then took her face in her hands, looking her in the eye for a moment before releasing her from her gaze, "Aragorn has safely passed the borders of my lands, does this please you?"  
  
Arwen smiled sadly; he was safe, for a time. "Yes."  
  
"He is confused, Arwen," Galadriel continued, "his love for you is great and he desires to be with you as well and yet he does not wish that your light should fade."  
  
Arwen was silent a moment before she answered, "I know."  
  
Galadriel turned to face her and studied her face with keen eyes of deep blue for a moment. At last she smiled and leaned over, planting a gentle kiss on her forehead, "There is always hope, Undomiel."  
  
And with that everything faded and foundered in darkness and Arwen slipped slowly back into reality.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ 


	5. memory

Her eyes fluttered open and she moaned as she felt someone gently shaking her by the shoulder.  
  
"Arwen." A voice called through the mists and she blinked until the image before her focused, "my lady."  
  
"Hmmmmmmmm?" she murmured, staring into the deep eyes of Glorfindel, "Mae govannem," she whispered in greeting, sitting upright.  
  
"My lady, are you alright?" he questioned, offering her a hand. His brows furrowed in worry at her dazed state, "Shall I fetch your father?"  
  
Arwen took his offer for support and allowed him to help her to her feet. "Nay, I am fine, my lord." She smiled with all the grace she could piece together. Mithrandir was defeated.. How could it be? Why did he stray ever into the dark depths of Khazad-dûm, where dwelt shadow and evil? Surely he would not have led the company needlessly into Moria. It was a grievous loss, especially to the elven kind, who of all the races knew perhaps best his purpose.  
  
Glorfindel looked at her quizzically but did not say a word. Some shadow lay upon her, a darkness which haunted the depths of her eyes. He raised an eyebrow as if to question her statement of reassurance but did not give voice to a challenge.  
  
"Your father bid me send you word concerning the Fellowship of the Ring."  
  
She started slightly, then looked at him with a closely guarded expression. "What then has become of it?" Arwen asked with an almost expectant look of sorrow, waiting for the words of confirmation she so dreaded.  
  
"They have passed the borders of the land of Lothlorien, home of our kindred to the South, in safety, save one alone." Here he closed his eyes briefly as he struggled to regain his composure as the weight of this loss washed over him and clouded his clear blue eyes, "Mithrandir fell in the dark chasm of Moria."  
  
Arwen stared blankly ahead, numb. For the grief of Glorfindel, she wished to feel some pain, some emotion, anything. She embraced him and stood for a time, not knowing what else to do. Everything just felt so wrong.  
  
"There is always hope." she whispered gently, moving away and gazing into his eyes, ancient, filled with starlight and the knowledge of many days.  
  
Glorfindel smiled softly and bowed slightly, his blonde hair spilling over his shoulders, shining with silver highlights in the moonlight, "Indeed there is, Lady Undomiel."  
  
"Come," Arwen motioned her hand to the path which led to the city, "let us return to the house of my father."  
  
Glorfindel nodded and the two began the walk through the gardens toward the dwelling. The air was filled with light and warmth, as though summer still lingered amidst the flowers and trees in the valley of Imladris. The moon shone brightly above them, filling everything with a cold glimmer. They walked, now in silence, each with their own thoughts. Glorfindel's mind rested on the figure who strode so gracefully beside him, the starlight flickering in her dark hair; a light shimmered beneath their feet as they tread the stone lined path, though no lantern did they carry.  
  
So many years he had watched her grow. A brief smile touched his face as he recalled the young maiden who had so enthusiastically endeavored to wield the blade her father had given to her. She had listened with eager ears and flashing eyes filled with wonder to the tales of the past ages and had pleaded with Lord Elrond to be allowed the use and possession of the sword of Idril, lady of the once great fallen city of Gondolin, whom she was descended from.  
  
Such wonder and determination had shone in her keen eyes that day. Elrond and Celebrian had watched with laughter and pride as she attempted to swing the heavy weapon. He could see her, wife to the Lord of Rivendell, laughing brightly, her long golden hair flashing in the sunlight.  
  
The loss of the Lady Celebrian had been a grievous one, most of all to her husband. He could still see it sometimes, that haunted look of pain that would fill his eyes when he thought of her. She was gone; she had departed long ago, unable any longer to bear the torment of her wounds. Over a thousand year had passed and yet he could remember every detail as though it had taken place but the day before.  
  
Scenes flashed before his half lidded eyes, ones that had haunted him for many days. Celebrian, laying forlornly upon a bed, her chest barely rising and falling with each shallow breath, her face and body scored with wounds innumerable. Her once shining golden hair streaked with dirt and bits of leaves and branches falling in a tangled mass around her battered, grime smudged face. The bright, starlight filled eyes that had once shone with such clarity were dimmed and hopeless, hidden behind tired lids as she slept fitfully in her haunted, feverish dreams.  
  
Glorfindel's keen eyes hardened. Such evil, that could bring pain to the innocent. Such evil. to hate all that was good and pure and to devise its ruin. "Yrch." He mouthed the word, his lip pulled up in a sneer, his face apathetic and cold. "Dae a mor."* Memories of that day filled his mind and he sighed as they flooded him with grief; pain and hatred.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
* "Orcs" "Darkness and shadow"  
  
Apparently, Peter Jackson and his cronies came up with an interesting history for the sword that Arwen bears. Here goes: it belonged to her great- grandmother, Idril of Gondolin, who wedded Tuor the mortal, and bore him Earendil, who wedded Elwing, who bore him Elrond and his twin, Elros. Elwing was descended from Dior, the son of Luthien and Beren, of whom many legends are told.  
  
Galadriel is Celebrian's mother, so I just thought that since she obviously knew much about Arwen and Aragorn's relationship, and the fact that they were closely related, it seemed likely that Arwen would have the gift of foresight for herself, as well as the help of her grandmother in helping her to see the fate of the one she loved. 


	6. man estel?

Peace.  
  
Peace filled the valley of Imladris. Upon the land no stain lay; the birds sang merrily amidst the trees and the gentle waterfalls fell, filling the air with their music. The sun toyed with the horizon, as though it desired to linger for but a moment longer, to cast its ray into the darkening sky, turning it a myriad of dazzling colors. Beyond the mountains to the East flashed small points of light, the first stars of the evening.  
  
Within the house nestled deep within the forests, relishing the beauty of the evening stood Elrond. His keen eyes watched the path leading through the trees with a worried look buried deep within their starlit grey depths. Some foreboding filled him, a dread that he could not yet give place to. His wife was to return from her stay in Lothlorien, land of her kin to the south, this night, and he awaited her arrival anxiously. Darkness still dwelt in the hidden places of the world; orcs roamed in the lands that lay between Rivendell and Caras Galdhon, and the journey was perilous.  
  
The night wore on, and still there was no sign of their coming. Doubt filled him, though he tried to brush it aside as merely unfounded worry. Something seemed wrong, and as the hours slipped by, he was only filled with more fear. Still he stood there; the sun sank beneath the mountains, its light fading from view. The stars blazed out in glory above him, the shades of night deepening.  
  
"Ada?" a quiet voice came from the stairway to his right. He turned slowly, a smile gracing his features.  
  
"Yes, Aier?" he asked, embracing his only daughter lovingly. She looked up at him with unfathomable eyes, filled with understanding and knowledge. Many days she had walked the earth, and yet they seemed to pass her by unaffected. In the blossom of youth she appeared, her hair touched by no frost; her face showed no sign of her age, save her eyes alone. She had inherited the gift of foresight by her grandmother, Galadriel, and he could perceive the doubt behind her smile.  
  
"Where is mother?" she asked softly, looked to the East.  
  
"You feel it as well, Arwen?" he questioned.  
  
She lowered her gaze to the railing, running her hand along its cold surface. "Yes, Ada." Her voice fell to little more then a whisper. "Something is wrong. I feel it. Darkness. shadow."  
  
They stood there, side by side, waiting as the sense of dread grew. Suddenly a cloud seemed to pass in their minds that shadowed the bright lights that flickered from the house. They both gasped as fear and pain filled them, as though it were their own. Elrond started and nearly fell.  
  
"Celebrian!"  
  
He yelled the name as he felt a wave of grief hit him. Something had happened, far beyond the boundaries of his valley. A vision flashed before his eyes. Arrows chirped all around and he felt a searing pain in his side. A feminine scream rang through the air and he gazed upon fallen bodies, fallen elves. He knew them; they bore the symbols of his household. They were all dead.  
  
He dropped to his knees, panting for breath as the scene released him. Tears fell freely down his face, his grey eyes filled with pain and grief. He could hear gentle sobs beside him and a tender voice calling him.  
  
"Ada! Ada!"  
  
He opened his eyes and found his daughter kneeling near to him, shaking him gently by the shoulder. He stood and hugged her tightly, her shoulders shaking with her tears. From behind him he heard soft footsteps. He turned to find his sons, Elrohir and Elladan, standing behind them, their silvery eyes flashing with wrath and fear.  
  
"Ada!" cried Elrohir, running to his side, "what has happened? Something foul is afoot to the East; have you felt it as well?"  
  
Elrond looked into their eyes and nodded slowly, "Your mother." he choked, then stopped. From somewhere he felt. called. Something was crying out to him beyond the distance of space and he closed his eyes, searching. His eyes darted open, shining with wrath. "We must leave, now!" Without any further word he stormed off into the house, a perilous flame shining in his flame.  
  
Elrohir and Elladan exchanged a glance before rushing after their father. Elrond was in his study, along with Erestor, the chief of his council, and Glorfindel, the head of his guard, his normally composed voice filled with anger and determination.  
  
"Glorfindel!" he ordered, "assemble a company to ride East. Something terrible has befallen the escort of Lady Celebrian, we must leave now."  
  
The twins did not wait a moment longer. They dashed to their rooms and emerged a second later, clad in natural shades of clothing and holding bows in their hands. Quivers were strapped to their backs, and swords glistened in the sheaths at their sides. Voices could be heard throughout the house as Glorfindel assembled those who would ride. Elrohir and Elladan ran down the halls until they came to their fathers study, rushing inside.  
  
Their father was there, dressed in attire similar to that of his sons, consulting a map, his keen eyes flickering over it with haste written in their depths. Erestor stood beside him, his face a cold mask. Candlelight danced around the room, gleaming in their hair. At last Elrond sighed, shoving the map into a bag nearby and swept out of the room, followed closely by his sons.  
  
Outside, gathered outside the stables, a host of elves were gathered, girt for battle, mounted upon their horses. Glorfindel stood at their head, standing beside the steed of Lord Elrond. Behind him, two others held also those of Elrohir and Elladan. The Lord of Imladris mounted, and waited while his sons did the same, and then, with the call of a horn and a shout, they rode off, passing swiftly through the valley.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
They had ridden far, pursuing the orcs to claim vengeance. At last they at caught up to them, and the wrath of the elves had been great; no orc escaped their assault. They had found Celebrian, though the memory of her condition still brought pain to every mind that beheld her. She had lived, and though the wounds to her body were healed, the scars upon her soul remained, and at last she could not bear them, and found no hope or joy in Middle-Earth, and forsook it to travel to Valinor, beyond the Sea, never to return.  
  
The mist before Glorfindel's eyes cleared and his mind returned to the present. Arwen watched him with soft eyes, wondering what he thought of that brought such pain.  
  
"Where does you mind dwell?" she asked quietly, noticing faintly that they had reached the House of Imladris.  
  
He looked at her, smiling softly, mournfully. "Upon your mother, Aier," he answered. His blue eyes shone with starlight.  
  
She cocked an eyebrow, smiling faintly, "I am small no longer, Glorfindel!" she retorted.  
  
"Oh really?" he laughed lightly, "Small still in some ways, Arwen."  
  
"Oh really?" she mimicked, stepping silently through the halls leading to her chamber, and halting in front of it. She stood there and turned to face him, a small pout crossing her face, waiting for his reply.  
  
"Indeed," he answered, kissing her gently on the forehead, "But your spirit has always been one far greater then your stature, and your hope ever enduring; your tale will be filled with much sadness and sorrow, but with that also the greatest joy to be found in the world."  
  
Arwen smiled gratefully, "Thank you, Lord Glorfindel, for your assurance. Your faith in me brings much comfort." She bowed slightly, and, turning to face the door, laid her hand upon the handle and opened it partially, pausing before she went inside, "But about my spirit. is it far greater then my stature because it in itself is great, or would you dare to call me short of height?"  
  
Glorfindel only smiled and bowed in reply, "Good evening, my lady." With that he turned and walked down the hall, quickly vanishing into the shadows of the house, leaving Arwen to shake her head and laugh quietly before going inside.  
  
It's me! Just wanted to say hi and THANK YOU FOR THE REVIEWS! *petting them* you love me! I'm so happy I could just laugh insanely and incredibly screechylike (that is a word, 'cept nobody knows it but me. yet ~_^) . which I won't do at the moment 'cause then some of you guys might get scared and not push the nice review button! See the pretty button?! You know you want to push it. Anyway, I love you all! Thanx for your encouragement in this little story of mine, you're all wonderful!  
  
Aren't Glorfindel and Elrohir and Elladan cute?! You gotta love em! I see Glorfindel as this caring (yes people, the elves have real feelings. I know this shocks you, but THEY CAN ACTUALLY CRY!), intelligent, protector type of person, and Elrohir and Elladan don't get any part in the movies at all and they're such cool characters! I mean, they're twins, and they're elves, it's just so cute!  
  
Notes: (yup. I love the notes. I wonder if anybody reads them.)  
  
Well. about the whole family having this kind of connected thing. It seemed to fit, especially with a family like theirs, and I kind of see elves as being bonded to each other in a degree a little more severe then humans. Humans can at times experience something akin to a sixth sense when a loved one is injured or killed and I thought that perhaps the elves have something similar, but to a greater degree, especially with those gifted with foresight (such as Lady Galadriel)  
  
Oh! And I always had this soft spot for the ruling family of Imladris. they lost Celebrian and it's just sad. 


	7. tinuviel

Memories.  
  
Arwen stepped outside, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Laughter drifted from nearby, followed by a clear voice raised in song. Her hand trailed along the banister as she descended the stairs leading from the balcony to the garden, lips moving in silent prayers to Elbereth that no one would see her. A dark cloak of a blue so deep it appeared nearly black fell in velvety folds around her, trailing lightly on the ground and hiding her grey dress from view. She reached up with one hand and deftly pulled the hood down over her face, gliding quickly through the flowered arrangements and disappearing into the shadows of the trees.  
  
Looking behind to make sure no one had seen her, she smiled sadly and threw the hood back from her face, shaking her near black waves loose. She slipped the cloak from her shoulders and let it fall unceremoniously to the ground. The gentle singing from the gardens floated through the air and she walked in time to its melancholy tune. The keen air whistled, whipping her hair into her face. The cold wind was a relief, producing an almost numbing effect as it cooled her warm ears.  
  
Aragorn.  
  
The name drifted through her mind yet again, perhaps the millionth time for that day and yet the ache it brought still induced such heartbreaking pain. She sat down on a bench with a sigh, running her hand over its cold surface. Cold and unfeeling. She heard the gentle sounds of nearly inaudible footsteps and turned to face the unheralded and unwanted intrusion.  
  
Elrohir. Her eyes slipped down to stare intently at her pale hands as they lay in her lap, a stark contrast to the dark fabric, grey as a stormy night. She listened as he walked closer and waited for him to speak.  
  
"Arwen?" he asked quietly, "Are you alright?"  
  
"Yes," she answered, raising her head to look him in the eye, "Yes, I'm fine."  
  
He sat down beside her, smiling and hugging her gently. "I thought I would find you here. I wanted to say goodbye, Elladan and I leave in the morning to ride north."  
  
"Will you be gone long this time?" she inquired, hugging him tightly back.  
  
"I don't know, Arwen."  
  
"I will miss you, as always,"  
  
"We ride to visit the Dunedain. It is long since I have looked upon their dwelling, not for many years in their reckoning." He thought a moment. "I do not think I have set foot there since Arathorn was slain." his voice filled with hurt, "I can still see Aragorn, looking up at me with tear filled eyes and asking me where his daddy was."  
  
"How young was he when he came to live here?"  
  
"He was so small, he could not have been any older then three or four. Gilraen was so distraught at the news, and then to have her son taken and raised away from her with the elves, it must have been heartbreaking." A smile crossed his face at some old memory, "He certainly added energy to Imladris, though."  
  
Arwen looked at him with an amused glance, "how so?"  
  
"He was the funniest rascal when he was young; so alive and ready to cause mischief. He would slip things into the food that would make it spicy and unfit to eat or set up some elaborate scheme to get Elladan and me absolutely filthy from head to toe. You wouldn't believe some of the ideas the little scoundrel cooked up."  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Estel broke into a run heading down the halls, sliding to a halt at the corner to peer around and make sure the coast was clear. His dark hair tumbled into his eyes and he brushed it away impatiently, swaying on his feet as he gazed determinedly at the door at the end of the hall. One more dash and he was safe. He tightened his hold on the bag clenched in his hand and prepared to sprint when.  
  
"Estel!"  
  
He froze, nearly toppling over from the sudden halt. He made an undignified attempt to right himself, but only succeeded in getting his feet caught in the long leather strap attached to the bag and tumbled abruptly to the floor. A gentle hand reached down and helped him to his feet, but the boy was not relieved as he gazed into the hazy grey eyes of the Lord of Imladris, towering over him. Elrond got down on one knee and stared Estel in the eye.  
  
Estel much preferred having Elrond tower over him then meet his gaze with such intensity and lowered his eyes to stare intently at the flooring beneath him, fascinated with a slight crack in the stone.  
  
"Estel, what are doing?"  
  
The young boy quickly grabbed the bag and unsuccessfully tried to hide the large object behind his small back. "Nothing" he muttered, shifting uncertainly on his feet. Elrond gently but firmly took Estel's chin in his hand, not normally this serious with the lad, but still rather irritated over a recent occurrence involving mud, a tablecloth, and several squirrels.  
  
"You sure?"  
  
Estel fell silent, his shoulders slumping guiltily. Elrond looked behind him, "May I see what's in the bag?" The human's eyes nearly doubled in size but he hesitantly handed it over, turning a slightly pinker color as Elrond opened the bag and studied its contents. He sighed and pulled out several glass containers marked in the youngling's scraggly writing, with such titles as "itching dust" and "hot sauce". Elrond frowned and selected a specially decorated vial marked "secret". He held it up and gave Estel a look that said "you better tell the truth or so help me" and spoke, "Estel, what is this?"  
  
"Uh."  
  
"Well?"  
  
"It's a secret." He jutted his bottom lip out and folded his arms sternly, "I can't tell you or it won't be a secret."  
  
Elrond held the container up to the light. The light played quite prettily through the scarlet red liquid. There was quite a lot of it, the glass's circumference was larger then his hand could spread around, and it was the length of a wine glass. He chuckled at Estel's stubbornness and continued to rummage through the bag. Rags, several lengths of rope, a pillowcase with the bottom filled with dirt and weeds, as well as several other odds and ends.  
  
"Very well," he smiled, standing and gathering everything into the bag and closing it, "You may keep your secret, and I shall keep this. Please try to stay out of trouble, Estel." He sighed and then turned to leave, pausing, "oh yes, I believe Glorfindel wanted to see you later, he said it was important."  
  
"Yes, Ada," the boy murmured, waiting for his foster father to disappear around the corner before smiling and reaching behind a table to extract a bottle filled with a murky blue substance, a grin spreading across his face. Ada may have been able to steal his other tools, but he had managed to sneak this behind the table while falling in order to save it from being seized by Lord Elrond.  
  
He darted a look around before dashing into his room to concoct a plot with his newest device.  
  
***********************************************************  
  
The sun rose in bright glory the next day, spilling brilliant rays over the mountains into the valley, flooding the house nestled within with light. Elrond sat up with a smile, glad that yesterday had passed without incident, thanks to his discovery. He climbed out of bed and hoped that today would go just as well.  
  
He entered the bathroom and instantly stopped. Smeared all across his face in strangely uniformed patterns was dark blue ink. He immediately stooped over the basin of water that had been set out the night before, scrubbing his face with soap and rinsing it, praying desperately that it would wash off. He hesitantly looked up and nearly yelled.  
  
The dark paint stood starkly out from his pale skin. All through the city, elves were waking up in the same predicament. The door to Estel's room burst open and Elrond rushed in, followed closely by Elrohir and Elladan, all furious. The Lord of Imladris reached over and pulled the blankets off the bed, ready to give Estel a piece of his mind, then stopped, sighing harshly.  
  
"He's gone, of course." He looked out the window into the bright morning, "He'll be back, probably sometime this evening, hoping that anger and paint will both have begun to fade." He turned and left, going back to his room to attempt to scrub the evil substance off.  
  
Hidden up in a tree with a sack filled with breakfast, lunch, and possibly dinner, Estel laughed happily to himself, thrilled with his newest prank and convinced that whatever punishment he might receive would be well worth it.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Arwen laughed merrily at the tale, finding it hard to see her Aragorn as being a prankster. Elrohir grinned broadly at the memory, funny though it was now, it had not been so then. Aragorn had grown up well enough, though, despite his rascally beginnings.  
  
Arwen stood and hugged her brother tightly, smiling. "Thank you, Elrohir," she giggled, "It felt good to laugh; it has been too long since I had reason to." Elrohir bowed formally.  
  
"Anything for you, my lady."  
  
She laughed at him and glanced over at the horizon. "Elrohir! It grows late, and you must rise early tomorrow."  
  
"Indeed I must." He leaned over and kissed her softly on the cheek, "Then I fear this is goodbye."  
  
"Farewell." Arwen's eyes watched him as he walked away and disappeared from her sight amid the trees. She shifted and laid down on the bench, staring up at the sky until she drifted off into dreams. 


	8. Uich gwennen

Man estel?  
  
*~* what hope? *~*  
  
The days passed swiftly, and the people of Rivendell prepared to depart. Strange dreams filled Arwen's rest, visions of far-off lands. Always they were filled with pain, and grief and fear also. Seldom was the laughter of the Evenstar heard in Imladris and her songs were ever of sorrow and mourning as she walked beneath the trees. The people of Rivendell looked ever unto the West as they readied to leave, but the gaze of Arwen strayed to the South.  
  
She lay in her chamber that day, near to her window, which was thrown open to admit the keen breeze which blew from the West, idly tracing the pillow nested beside her. Arwen stared outside with a melancholy look, her deep eyes sorrowful.  
  
May the grace of the Valar protect you.  
  
She whispered the words, praying to Elbereth to watch over the one she loved. Her mind drifted afar, wandering in lands beyond the valley, seeing things her eyes could not. The fear of Mordor filled all the lands of the South of Middle-Earth.  
  
She vaguely felt a presence enter the room and half-consciously groped for an identity. It was her father.  
  
"Arwen."  
  
She turned to face him, sitting up slowly and gracefully, swinging her bare feet over the edge and down to the floor. She regarded him with distant and somewhat cold eyes.  
  
"Tollen I lu. I chair gwannar na Valinor. Si bado, no cirar," he spoke in an urgent voice. *The time is come. The ships depart for Valinor. Now go, before it is too late.*  
  
Arwen looked at him sadly and yet resolutely. "I have made my choice," she stated softly, knowing that he would understand the meaning of her words, her eyes falling to her hands, which rested in her lap.  
  
Elrond's eyes flashed and he moved to stand before her, searching her face with questioning eyes, "Why do you linger here when there is no hope?" he asked.  
  
Arwen raised her head, a pale light flickering in her eyes as she fought despair with her last resolve, "There is still hope..." she managed to whisper quietly.  
  
Elrond softly paced to the end of the room, face filled with pain; he would not lose his daughter. Her grief was great, and yet he knew that the years would bring healing in the land of Valinor  
  
Memories of his brother slipped into his mind and he closed his eyes briefly, fighting tears. He turned to face his only daughter once more. He felt that he could not bear to lose her to the death that she was not meant to ever succumb to.  
  
"If Aragorn survives this war, you will still be parted. If Sauron is defeated and Aragorn made king, and all that you hope for comes true."  
  
Arwen struggled to restrain the tears which filled her eyes. The wind whistled through the open window, causing the curtains to billow and flutter. It flitted through the room, keen and biting.  
  
"You will still have to taste the bitterness of mortality. Whether by the sword or the slow decay of time, Aragorn will die, and there will be no comfort for you. No comfort to ease the pain of his passing."  
  
Scenes flashed before her eyes. She stood beside a bier, upon which rested Aragorn, his hair now white, his face lined as though with many days of sorrow and joy. She stood, holding his hand in her own and fighting tears, dressed in black. Crowns of gold rested on her head and upon his. His sword lay upon him, held tightly in his hands. Full of glory and majesty and power, keen and wise as the lords of the Eldar days.  
  
"He will come to death, an image of the splendor of the kings of men in glory undimmed before the breaking of the world."  
  
Arwen walked to stand at the end of the tomb and watched as he faded and his image was replaced by one of stone. She bowed her head, her face now hidden by the long dark veil which streamed about her in the wind.  
  
"But you, my daughter," he bowed his head, grief filling him, "You will linger on, in darkness and in doubt, as night falling in Winter comes without a star."  
  
Tears fell behind the long veil which covered her face as she stood forlornly upon some forgotten hill. Pain and despair marked her face, haunted the depths of her eyes. Her head dropped and she let the emptiness fill her.  
  
"Here you will dwell, bound to your grief, beneath the fading trees, until the world is changed, and the long years of your life are utterly spent."  
  
There is no hope. only darkness.  
  
A figure wandered through a barren forest, clad in a dark cloak, hair falling behind her like a shadow. It was herself, she dimly realized.  
  
Was this how it would end?  
  
Would she die, alone and forgotten, wandering in some deserted wood in sorrow? Her vision was misted by the tears which filled her eyes. The biting breeze whispered in her ear, playing with her dark locks.  
  
"Arwen." Her father's deep voice reached her ears. She raised her head to look pleadingly at him, searching for answers, for hope. Her thoughts wound themselves about, entangling her within. Numbness filled her, and yet throbbing pain. She gasped lightly and a tear fell from her eye, stinging her cheek slightly in the cold wind as it slipped down her cheek.  
  
One.  
  
Absentmindedly she counted it as it fell onto her dress.  
  
"There is nothing for you here, only death."  
  
Two.  
  
Three.  
  
Silence reigned, broken only save by Arwen's strained breathing and the low whistle of the wind as it danced through the room. Elrond looked down at his daughter, sorrow etched upon his face. He sat down next to her, placing his hand on her cheek and gently brushing away the strands of hair which fell in front of her face.  
  
"A Im?," he asked quietly, sadly, "U-'erin veleth lin?" *And me? Do I not also have your love?"*  
  
"Gerich meleth nin, Ada" she sobbed, burying her face in his chest. She had no strength to fight the despair. There was no hope. 


	9. na wa'nath ah na dhin

She walked in the gardens within the house of her father, delighting in the feel of the fresh air, the starlight playing down through the trees to shine upon her, radiant and bright. Arwen had let her long hair down, and it followed her as a dark shadow, glimmering in the night. Her dress of pale grey shone in the darkness, and she danced upon the grass in joy of the winter, the cool frost on the ground shimmering in the light of the moon which sent rays shining down to Arda. From somewhere came the faint sounds of a song. The melody was so familiar, and yet she could not grasp what it was. Thoughts darted through her head, and she could not catch them. She forgot her frustration, as she began to dance, the words flitting through her mind, wrapping her in their embrace and carrying her far away, to a place forgotten by the world of men, and yet cherished by the elven people.  
  
"Her mantle glinted in the moon, As on a hill-top high and far She danced, and at her feet was strewn A mist of silver quivering"  
  
She whirled around, the words enchanting her flowing movements, spinning them beyond her control. Arwen threw her head back, reveling in the peace of the night.  
  
"He saw the elven flowers spring About her feet, and healed again He longed by her to dance and sing Upon the grass untroubling"  
  
She saw the sky high above, the Evenstar shining down on her, catching in her raven locks. Cares and worries slipped away, and her heart was given to the stars.  
  
"Tinuviel! Tinuviel! He called her by her elvish name; And there she halted listening. One moment stood she, and a spell His voice laid on her: Beren came, And doom fell on Tinuviel That in his arms lay glistening"  
  
Her clear voice raised in song, echoing in the woods around, clear as a silver bell, and bright as the morning. The music became more then hers, hundreds of fair elven voices singing, rising up, full of hope and sorrow, joy and despair. Then they faded, slowly, until only two voices remained, hers and anothers. Her dancing came to a halt, and she opened her eyes. Only one voice was singing, her own. Her own sweet voice rang throughout, and as the song came to an end, she opened her eyes.  
  
She felt her breath catch slightly. Standing at the edge of the clearing was. a man. A slight flush rose to her cheeks, an ever faint tinge of pink on her pale features, and she turned to walk back towards the house of her father.  
  
"Tinuviel! Tinuviel!"  
  
She whirled around, a smile gracing her face, her dark hair whipping behind her in a keen breeze, and she turned to watch as this man walked up, awe written on his features.  
  
"Who are you?" she spoke, the words tumbling from her lips. Something about him seemed. almost familiar, "And why do you call me by that name?" Her eyes darted, scanning his face for an answer.  
  
"Because I believed you to be indeed Luthien Tinuviel, of whom I was singing," he answered with wonder shining brightly in his keen eyes, alive with a light akin to that of the elven race and yet not so. A lord of men he seemed, full of the life of the youthful, to whom the world is new every day "But if you are not she, then you walk in her likeness."  
  
Arwen felt her smile waver, and her mind wandered through many thoughts. And doom came on Tinuviel, that in his arms lay glistening. She pushed the words aside, they troubled her. " So many have said, yet her name is not mine. Though maybe my doom will not be unlike hers," the words did not seem to come from her, as though her mind and body lay in the keeping of some greater force. She felt her thoughts return, and continued, "But who are you?"  
  
He seemed to return from a dream, and he answered with an air of dignity. "I am Aragorn, son of Arathorn, Lord of the Dunadain and heir of Isildur."  
  
He appeared noble, bold, and laugh escaped her throat, watching in pitied amusement as he deflated; she could see the embaressment in his eyes, hidden though it was by. awe, was it. Or perhaps. she nearly froze, infaturation. She could hardly bear his discomfort and laughed merrily, its bright sound ringing through the trees, "Then we are kin from afar," her mind raced, so this was Elendil's heir., "For I am Arwen Elrond's daughter, and am called also Undomiel."  
  
Her mind saw the sorrow in her father's eyes when he spoke of Isildur, but her heart thought of this man before her, the descendant of kings. His eyes glinted keenly and he was lithe, strong and proud. "Often it is seen," he spoke in a voice filled with wonder and amazement, "that in dangerous days men hide their chief treasure. Yet I marvel at Elrond and your brothers; for though I have dwelt in this house since childhood, I have heard no word of you. How comes it that we have not met before?Surely your father has not kept you locked in his hoard?"  
  
Arwen nearly laughed at this; keep her under lock and key? Surely her father would do no such thing and yet. and yet she wondered also why he had no tidings of her, for was she not the daughter of Elrond, would he not mention her within all the years of this youth? 20 years or so this mortal seemed, and surely her father would have spoken of her lest he feared something of this man? "No," she looked across the mountains, towards Lothlorien, where dwelt her grandmother, Galadriel and grandfather, Celeborn, "I have dwelt for a time in the land of my mother's kin, in far Lothlorien. I have but lately returned to visit my father again. It is many years since I walked in Imladris."  
  
She watched in amusement as a strange look came into his eyes, confusion filled him. Arwen smiled and looked deep into his eyes, "Do not wonder! For the children of Elrond have the life of the Eldar."  
  
Why had I ever left?  
  
Naneth.  
  
Memories flooded her mind. Of singing and dancing, of her mother's bright laughter flying through the trees; of her father. Her thoughts came rushing back to the man who stood before her, "I fear I must depart, son of Arathorn. Elenath sila erin le." She turned and walked quickly away, vanishing from his sight as tears streamed down her pale cheeks.  
  
Mother, why did you leave me? Why did you leave him, he needs you. I can see it in his eyes sometimes, that haunted look that invades when his thoughts dwell on you. I miss you so much.  
  
She sat down on a bench and let the sobs take her. She did not feel the pain like this in Lothlorien; healing was there. Here. here there were only memories, it was a place of remembrance. She shifted and laid on the long seat, staring at the stars as they peered through the trees, the sound of voices raised in song drifted to my ears and she closed my eyes and listened.  
  
One day the pain will fade.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
A Elbereth Gilthoniel  
  
Silivren penna miriel  
  
O menel aglar elenath  
  
Na-Chaered palan-diriel  
  
o galadhremmin ennorth  
  
Fanuilos, le linnathon  
  
Nef aear, si nef aearon  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Arwen stirred as the suns rays played across her face, sitting slowly up. A tear threaded down her cheek and she let out a sigh. She ran a hand through her dark tresses, climbing out of bed. She rose and stared sadly out the window.  
  
All through the valley life began to stir. Flowers peered sleepily out from behind their petals and songs began to rise throughout the house. It proved to be a beautiful day for many, even through the sorrow that existed as the elven kindred prepared to depart, but for Arwen it was only another day of grief. Another day knowing she would never again see the one she loved most.  
  
Another day without hope. 


	10. Boe naid bain gwannathar

Arwen sat on the floor, huddled near to the wall in a corner of the Hall of Fire, wrapped in a warm, dark cloak, hood pulled over her face to mask her features. Her eyes were closed, and she let the lyrics flicker through her mind. A dark haired elf stood and began to sing, and the soft words came falling into her mind as she drifted off into dreams.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Uich gwennen na'wanath ah na dhin  
  
Aragorn floated down a river, motionless, his body battered and bloody.  
  
An uich gwennen na ringyrn ambar hen  
  
She watched as his still form washed ashore, searching for any signs of life. He moaned faintly, and she sighed, releasing the breath she had not realized she had been holding. He lived.  
  
Boe naid bain gwannathar  
  
Her eyes wandered over him, looking for wounds, noting the Evenstar was missing from his neck with sorrow.  
  
Boe cuil ban firitha  
  
She bent over his form, tracing his features with her pale fingers, "May the grace of the Valar protect you," she whispered, gently kissing him, wishing that he could feel her warm touch. His eyes drifted open and she smiled sadly as the dream vanished.  
  
Boe near gwannatach  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
She awakened as the song ended, her deep, starlit eyes rising from the shadows of her cloak to stare out at the others.  
  
"Aragorn."  
  
She stood, the warm closeness of the hall feeling confining, and made her way outside. The stars shone brightly overhead and a hint of a smile touched her lips. She walked awhile through the cold forest, her steps slow but sure, allowing her mind to drift somewhere between thought and dream.  
  
She sat down next to a tree, leaning back against the white bark of the graceful birch, staring up into the night sky. A tear meandered down her cheek, stinging slightly in the brisk air, and she gently closed her eyes. The last thing she remembered before she fell asleep was the wind whistling through the woods.  
  
HI! THANK YOU! Thank you thank you thank you for all the reviews! Especially to Lalaithiel (cute name, by the way!) for inspiration for this chapter, and for ~Me, who majorly inspired most everything else to follow! *blows kisses* THANK YOU!  
  
I'm back, and I've got three other chappies wrriten, so PLEASE REVIEW, it means so much to me! LOVE YA! 


	11. Estel maethad i mor

Arwen stood beneath the doorway leading to Dinsam, the chamber of silence. Therein lay Narsil, blade of Elendil, once surrounded by other remnants of the last great war of Middle-Earth. Not it lay alone, save perchance some other small item of men. The elvish armour, and such things, had been removed and packed away safely for the journey to Valinor but this remained, for its importance belonged to men, not to the elven kindred. And so she stood there, clad in traveling clothes and a soft cloak that fell to gently brush the floor, staring at the statue far across the room which held the reforged blade of Isildur cradeled within its arm. She walked slowly toward it, her eyes fixed upon the sword in awe. IN her mind she listened to the tales of her father as he told of Elendil and Gil-galad and of the bright flame of Narsil as it swept through the unnumbered hosts of Mordor, dancing in its masters hand, an unquenchable flame, untiring of battle.  
  
Her cold hand reached out and she felt her fingers grasp the handle. Arwen hefted it, watching the dying rays of the sun glimmering red down the blade, admiring the skill with which the elves of Imladris had mended the shattered weapon. It was perfectly balanced, and seemed a thing to grand for even her hand, something meant to lead all good things to victory. Her eyes glazed, a mist filled them, her mind slipping unbidden into the world of dreams even as she stood, holding the hilt of Narsil in her pale white hand.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Far away Aragorn stood upon the wall of helm's Deep; the rain fell in torrents about the army arrayed there. With a single deft movement he drew his sword, its blade gleaming in the smoggy light cast from torches positioned here and there. Around him were elves, clad in shining armour. Proud and stern he was, a commanding light was in his eyes.  
  
Lightning flashed, illuminating the disturbing sight surrounding the fortress. Standing before the wall, girt for war, were thousands upon thousands of foul orcs, a sea beyond her count, pounding tall spears in a cruel measure of war. Their ranks suddenly ceased all action, and a deathly still fell upon both sides, hardly bearable. Suddenly an arrow was loosed from the battlement at the end of the wall, streaking through the air and piercing an orc in the throat.  
  
The fury of the forces of Saruman was unleashed even as their first casualty fell to the ground, dead. They crashed upon the fortress as waves upon the shore, fearsome cries ringing through the night.  
  
"Hado I phillin!" came the command. The air was suddenly filled with arrows, and many orcs fell slain by their deadly accuracy. Yells of pain and hatred rang from both sides and the sounds of war grew almost deafening, the twang of bowstrings and the grating of metal and stone.  
  
War had come to Rohan.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Arwen started, the sword dropped from her hand and fell to the floor with a loud clang! The mist fell from before her eyes  
  
And she bent down to retrieve Narsil. She traced the lines of the hilt, running her fingers along its cross and letting them drift down the base of the blade, dipping them into the shallow ravine at its center.  
  
The moments passed, and at last she stopped and gripped the hilt, raising the sword to her lips. She softly kissed the blade, then laid it gently back onto the velvety cloth. "Namarië," she whispered, then slipped silently from the room.  
  
Once again, thank you for all the yummy support! Brownie points will be eaten with much pleasure! I've completely reversed what I really think is going to happen to write this story because it's easier to fill in the gaps of what I don't know this way! Sorry the chap's kinda shorter then I'd like, but I'm trying to type them out when I can. Expect another one veeery soon, though. LOVE YA! XOXO 


	12. law estel

*sticks tongue out* another short chapter, even less then the last. Nobody reviewed my last chapter! It wasn't THAT bad, was it? *sniffle* do you guys just hate me?! I'm warning you, the next one will be even smaller (sounds impossible, ne?) if you don't REVIEW!  
  
Dusk slipped over Rivendell, and with its coming the elves made ready to depart. Elrond stared at the mural on the wall before him. Isildur held the shattered blade of his father, striving to overcome the shadow even as it loomed over him.  
  
He turned and walked to a nearby window, and watched as his people left. Their cloaks glistened in the light of the stars above, and in their white hands they held lanterns which flickered with yellow flame. Slowly they passed, leading white horses laden with their belongings, leaving their home.  
  
His eyes rested upon one of the graceful figures, who walked with forced steps. She felt his gaze upon her and slowly raised her head to look at him. Her eyes were filled with unshed tears, and her shoulders were bent with grief and sorrow. She looked away, lowering her head to stare and the ground, and continued walking, disappearing from his sight.  
  
Elrond sighed, features grave, and his cloudy eyes raised above them, to the East. His mind wandered afar, seeking the presence of Lothlorien, and of Galadriel.  
  
"I amar prestar aen."he heard her deep voice whisper in his ear, "Han mathon ne nen, han mathon ne chae, a han noston ned gwilith. .."  
  
Elrond listened grimly as she spoke. The day had been a bitter one for the elven kindred, their songs of grief still haunted the now empty gardens and halls. There was no hope in Middle-Earth, in Arda, for the elves.  
  
"Do we let them stand alone?"  
  
The question haunted his thoughts, whispering through his mind. He turned and strode inside, his gaze wandering across the room absentmindedly. His animated steps brought him to stand in front of the statue that held Narsil reforged in its grasp. He reached out and took it, feeling the perfect balance and strong lines. He twirled it around, watching as it danced in his hands, eager for battle.  
  
"No." he murmured. The human race would not, could not stand alone.  
  
Dun dun dun. REVIEW, AND THE STORY SHALL CONTINUE! 


	13. estel nin anui

Another chappie, and it's longer! Yay! I really don't care if you completely trash and burn this story, but please, REVIEW! I know this is most likely completely incorrect, almost every detail off, but oh well! You guys wanted it, so here it is! REVIEW! ^_^  
  
Arwen stood alone on a wide balcony overlooking the sea. Its smell filled the air, and the seagull's cries rang from the cliffs. Below the harbors were filled with ships of grey and white, some shaped like swans, with jet black beaks, so lifelike they looked as though ready to fly away at any moment. She stared across the ocean, as though she strove to see the land upon the other side.  
  
Her mind drifted through the past and she stifled tears at the pain old memories brought. Arwen saw her father down at the end of the lines of ships, speaking with an old, silver haired elf with flashing, cloudy eyes. Her Father, her family, her kin. Aragorn... To choose one she must utterly forsake the other. She had made her choice, though, yet indecision filled her. Did she really want to leave?  
  
Every time she looked across the vast distance, the pain in her heart became almost unbearable. What comfort would she find in Valinor as she stared across the same sea, knowing she would never return to the one she had given her heart to? The thought of never seeing him again.  
  
She closed her eyes as though it would shut out the ache, the memories, the feelings, just lose herself in the numbing cold. The sun was beginning to slip below the horizon, casting faint pink rays across the water. The sky was a myriad of dazzling colors, and the first stars peered out to the east, twinkling amidst wispy grey clouds.  
  
Arwen sighed, turning to look inside where the lanterns were brightly lit, and music flowed out to greet her ears. A bright, clear call rang through the air and she peered toward the entrance of the city to see a great host of elves approaching, voices raised in song. A smile broke upon her face as she spied the two figures leading them, regally seated upon two light palfreys, robed in white and silver.  
  
By the time she had made her way to the courtyard, the company had already reached it and she embraced her grandparents as they dismounted. Galadriel smiled and hugged her tightly; sorrow passing through the fathomless depths of her starlit eyes at the grief she saw in Arwen.  
  
Cirdan and Elrond were there also, and greeted them formally. Afterwards, they were all shown to the hall where a great feast had been prepared in their honor. The elven kindreds danced and ate and sang joyfully, though Arwen did not feel like taking part in the festive merrymaking, and retreated to the quiet peace of the terraces that overlooked the sea.  
  
She gazed blankly out across the waters, stretching eternally, listening to the never-ending beating of the waves crashing upon the shore.  
  
"It is beautiful here."  
  
She heard the melodious voice, recognizing it instantly. She did not turn, but nodded gently, leaning over the railing, "Yes, it is."  
  
Galadriel walked slowly to stand beside her, "You mourn, child."  
  
Arwen's eyes did not move as she answered, frozen on a point somewhere in the sky as her eyes filled with tears, "I love him."  
  
Galadriel smiled sadly, "Then why do you leave?  
  
The question was so simple, but impossible to answer.  
  
Galadriel faced her. "Look at me, dearest. Though the world wept and mourned her loss, Luthien never regretted her decision, for she loved Beren. If you depart, I deem that you make a greater sacrifice then she."  
  
Arwen lowered her face to study her pale hands, gripping the railing as though they anchored her to the world. "How can I stay?"  
  
"How can you leave?" she answered softly. "Do you truly wish to spend eternity without him?"  
  
Arwen's head sank even lower, tears falling down her stricken face, "No." she whispered.  
  
Galadriel motioned to a handmaiden standing nearby, taking something from her and waving her off. "You father sent this to me, that I might deliver it to Aragorn, but I deemed the time unripe." Her long fingers clasped the hilt and she gracefully unsheathed the blade. "Behold, Narsil reforged." She ran her hand down the flat of its length, "So of old it was called, but I name it anew. Anduril, it shall be, the Flame of the West." The blade shone cold and keen in the moonlight, flickering perilously.  
  
Galadriel sheathed it deftly, holding it in both hands, offering it to Arwen, "Will you take it?"  
  
Arwen looked out again across the sea, then down at the sword. Eternity seemed to pass before she spoke. "I will," she said softly, accepting the legendary weapon as it was handed to her.  
  
The Lady of Light smiled and hugged her granddaughter, tears in her eyes, "May the Valar guide you upon the path you have chosen." With that she turned and left, a sad look of contentment on her fair face, leaving Arwen behind to trace the patterns of the sheath of the blade that would fight the shadow of the East. Her choice was made.  
  
At last Arwen moved to go inside, but stopped as she found her father, standing before her, his figure outlined strikingly against the lights inside. "I'm sorry." she murmured, meeting his cloudy gaze with tears in her eyes, "I can't go with you."  
  
Elrond started, looking at the sword his daughter held clutched tightly in her hands with sorrow written upon his face. "What are you going to do, then?" he asked quietly, voice filled with pain.  
  
"I will bring Anduril to Aragorn; he will have need of it with the coming storm." Her words were said with a steely calmness, belayed only by the fact that tears streamed down her face and her fingers were trembling.  
  
Elrond walked over and hugged her tightly, tears slipping down his cheeks, "I love you, Arwen, iel nin." *my daughter  
  
She sobbed, arms locked around his waist, "I'm sorry, I wish things didn't have to be this way. I love you, Ada." she murmured. "But I can't leave." *father  
  
The stars looked on as they held each other for the last time, and saw also their parting the next day, as Elrond, Elrohir, and Elladan watched with grieving eyes as she departed from them forever.  
  
*sob* poor Elrond. *sniffle* Notes! Yay!: I decided to go with this because it shows Arwen leaving so I had her leave, but not all the way. stupid, no? Besides, the havens are prettyful!  
  
I have manipulated the timeline (or have I? *dun dun dun!!!!*) and have had the decision to join the war come with enough time to send Galadriel the sword, have her travel to the Havens, and give it to Arwen all in time for her to ride south and give it to Aragorn before the big war! Talent, no? It took a lot of thinking outside of the given box.  
  
I think Arwen made her choice because of her father, and now she's making this choice because of (mostly) her grandmother. Poor girl, caught between the two of them.  
  
Lastly, and most importantly: REVIEW!!! REVIEW! REVIEW! 


	14. anduril

Aragorn looked up from the map that he and several others were studying gravely. The hand of Mordor stretched far into every corner of Middle- Earth, and little hope now seemed left. A guard entered, bowing before those assembled and addressed Aragorn.  
  
"My Lord Aragorn. There is a lady here to see you; she claims her errand is most important."  
  
Aragorn started, rising from his seat with a grave face, exchanging a knowing glance with Legolas, who stood also. "Did she give you a name?"  
  
"Nay, my lord. Though, if I may say, it was quite a shock, for me at least, to see her here. 'Tis long since we have seen or heard of the elven folk."  
  
He had not even finished when Aragorn swept past him, flinging open the flap that served as a door for the large pavilion. He started as he found Arwen standing before him, her face and arms marked with scratches and her clothes worn and ragged. He gaped for a moment, then hardened, composing himself, though in his eyes was pain. Arwen took Anduril from her belt, holding it forth and sinking to one knee.  
  
"Here is Narsil reforged, blade of kings. I have brought it forth from the North by the bidding of Lady Galadriel. Behold, the world is changing once more. Will you accept now that which you would not before?" She looked at him with pleading eyes, and they both knew in full the double meaning of her words.  
  
"Why have you not gone?" He asked, for he could think of nothing else, not even of the sword she held, gleaming in her pale hands.  
  
"My choice is made, mine as was Luthien's long ago, when the world was young. I will not leave. To depart would be a greater sacrifice then to give my life to you, and to accept your fate in doing so. There is no hope for me beyond the sea; I will find no rest in the light apart from you." Her eyes filled with steely determination. "Lo! Aragorn, son of Arathorn, heir of Isildur! Your path is already set before you. You can no longer fight the darkness in secret, but must march boldly into despair to bring hope. Take now Anduril, which is yours in every right, and fear no longer any weakness, for where your sire fell, you shall stand firm."  
  
Aragorn slowly took the sword from her, drawing it from the elegant sheath. The dying sun flashed red down its keen blade, deadly and biting. His eyes were dark and grave as he thought. At last he raised it, hand clasped tightly, firmly about the hilt, and cried out in a great voice.  
  
"All that is gold does not glitter  
Not all those who wander are lost  
The old that is strong does not wither  
Deep roots are not reached by the frost  
A fire from the ashes shall be woken  
A light from the shadows shall spring  
Renewed shall be blade that was broken  
The crownless again shall be king."  
  
He lowered the blade, buckling the sheath around his waist and slipping the sword into it. "I go to war."  
  
* * * * * * * * * * *  
  
Arwen watched as the lines of soldiers marched by. Aragorn rode at the head, Anduril at his side, face grim and noble. Her eyes gazed long after them, until at last they disappeared from even her keen sight into the shadow. She sighed, taking a deep breath to calm the knot in her stomach.  
  
He would return.  
  
Her hands gripped the cold metal rail, shaking slightly. She began to sing softly in the tongue of her people as she stood in the city of men that would be her home for the rest of her days.  
  
"A Elbereth Gilthoniel.  
  
Silivren penna miriel  
  
O menel aglar elenath  
  
Na-chaered palan-diriel  
  
O galadhremmin ennorath  
  
Fanuilos, le linnathon  
  
Nef aear, si nef aearon"  
  
The gentle notes died away and she turned from the terrace and made her way down to the stables. She slid open the door to Asfaloth's stall, slipping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his silky mane. She drew away and stared at him, eyes filled with tears.  
  
"What if he dies?" she whispered slowly, forcing each word out past the ache in her throat. She nuzzled her forehead against his neck, running her hands along its length.  
  
She sank to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees, and leaving back against the wall. "Ada..." she whispered, a tear falling down her cheek. Asfaloth nudged her gently with his head and she laughed quietly.  
  
"I know... Aragorn's going to be alright, isn't he?" She stood and stroked him absentmindedly, looking past his lithe form to the East. There was always hope. 


	15. the end? or not? you decide!

Um. this is the POSSIBLE LAST CHAPTER, y'all! IF YOU WANT THIS STORY TO CONTINUE INTO THE MARRIED LIFE AND ALL THAT, I SUGGEST YOU GUYS REVIEW!!!!! I have a couple cute little ideas.  
  
Arwen stood upon the wall of the seventh and smallest circle of Minas Tirith, where the gaurds of the city had instructed her to remain. Several skirmishes had broken out upon the outer walls, and there was still no word from the East. The shadow that loomed over all grew, bringing terror and despair to every heart, oppressing and chocking.  
  
She reached out with her thoughts, striving to pierce the looming dark, searching for news of the doings in the East. She felt a menacing, overwhelming presence, felt it tearing through her, and she foundered in unquenchable fear before wrenching away. Her eyes flew open, deep, startled pools of blue, gripping the rail with dead white hands.  
  
Suddenly a strange feeling swept over her, and she felt the shadow around her quail. As though in a dream she heard a familiar voice, once timid and uncertain, now fell and proud, and a shining figure she beheld in the haze, before it vanished.  
  
"I have come," he said, "But I do not choose now to do what I came to do. I will not do this deed."  
  
Harsh cries filled with menace, bringing terror, rang from the sky, flooding her ears and she balled her fists, unwilling to waver in weakness.  
  
"The Ring is mine!"  
  
Everything in her pushed against the darkness that was so choking it felt physical, repulsing her presence, forcing away her will.  
  
"NO! FRODO!" she screamed, struggling desperately, "Don't give up!! NOT NOW!!" She beat her fists against the black wall before her, "NO!!!"  
  
The mist slipped from her eyes and she collapsed in the arms of the guard who held her securely, dimly noting her hands, which gripped the soft fabric of his tunic. She pulled away from him and looked away, across the valley. Something was happening.  
  
She felt a contest of wills, each struggling for dominance, felt the emotions that swept in waves through both of them, when suddenly both collapsed. A tremor ran through the earth and the world seemed to freeze, foundering on a brink of doom. She groped desperately in the murky shadow, searching for the hobbits beyond hope.  
  
She felt a faint presence and reached for it. The world was choked in ash and gloom, a whirling storm of chaos, and in the midst of the panic and madness two hobbits lay, lost in despair, yet living, and clinging on to life.  
  
Suddenly she dropped violently back into reality, looking wildly around. The seconds ticked by painfully and Arwen stood breathlessly staring out into the dark, clinging to what hope remained. It seemed they waited a lifetime, when at last a song came drifting to her attentive ears.  
  
"Sing now, ye people of the Tower of Anor, For the Realm of Sauron is ended forever, And the Dark Tower is thrown down.  
  
Sing and rejoice, ye people of the Tower of Guard, For your watch hath not been in vain, And the Black Gate is broken, And your King hath passed through, And he is victorious.  
  
Sing and be glad, all ye children of the West, For your King shall come again, And he shall dwell among you All the days of your life.  
  
And the Tree that was withered shall be renewed, And he shall plant it in the high places, And the City shall be blessed.  
  
Sing all ye people!"  
  
The eagles winged their way above the city, singing proudly, and Arwen felt joy bubbling up within her and laughed merrily.  
  
Aragorn lived.  
  
* *  
  
Arwen watched as Aragorn was crowned king, her heart filled with happiness, yet a tear meandered down her cheek as she thought of her father, and her kin. She brushed it away, as she did the thoughts, and looked only ahead, adjusting the long white length of her dress absentmindedly.  
  
Aragorn bowed to the others and started toward her, striding proudly up, love and faint sorrow in the depths of his wise eyes upon seeing her. He embraced Arwen tightly, feeling her tears, wrought of grief and love and joy and relief and fear and a million other things wet his neck.  
  
She leaned up, whispering in quick, hushed tones in his ear, pleading with him. "Melin le. Firithin u-le; le amar nin. Law u-le, si egor athan I aear. U-badiathan." * I love you. I will die without you; you are my world. There is nothing without you, here, or beyond the Sea. I will not go." She drew away, her hands tracing his face, looking into his eyes, a slight fear hidden in hers.  
  
Aragorn kissed her, holding her firmly. "Melin le, Arwen," he held her gaze, "An-ui."  
  
Arwen smiled brightly, tears slipping from her eyes and streaming down hwe pale cheeks. There was always Hope.  
  
The End  
  
YAY! HAPPY ENDING!! OR NOT?!?!?!?! Want this not to be the end, THEN REVIEW!!!! PLEASE?!?! (Can you sense the desperation?) 


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